


The Eye of the Storm

by bigsoftboy



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Suicidal Thoughts, Episode: e123 Web Development (The Magnus Archives), Lack of Communication, M/M, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, canon-typical self hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24483628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigsoftboy/pseuds/bigsoftboy
Summary: When Martin got the call he had simply stared at the name as it rang, unmoving. Now he sits at his desk, unable to pull his gaze away from his mobile screen. His finger hovers shakily over the play button, but he can’t bring himself to press it.-Jon wakes up. Things aren't easy.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 9
Kudos: 111





	1. Martin

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through MAG123!
> 
> Apologies for the angst, I suppose it's partly resolved post-159 but not specifically in this fic.
> 
> Had the idea to write this while working on [this comic](https://reidspng.tumblr.com/post/619483170674458625/jon-reviews-tapes-post-s3)!

**Chelsea and Westminster Hospital** Voicemail 16m ago

When Martin got the call he had simply stared at the name as it rang, unmoving. Now he sits at his desk, unable to pull his gaze away from his mobile screen. His finger hovers shakily over the play button, but he can’t bring himself to press it.

Six months. It’s been six months since Jon and the others stopped the Unknowing at the cost of Tim and Daisy’s (and, it seems, Jon’s) lives. When Jon had ended up in the hospital, Martin had visited  _ every day _ that he could, sitting somberly at his bedside and rattling off one-sided conversations to fill the crushing silence. Elias had seemed determined that Jon was still alive, which was the only reason Martin held out hope as long as he did; he may hate the man with every fibre of his being but Elias  _ knows  _ things, and if he was so certain about this then  _ maybe  _ there was still reason to hold out hope. Even if the doctors all thought Jon was a lost cause. Even if he’d seen firsthand how still and lifeless Jon’s body was in that hospital bed every time he visited.

It took him over four months to finally give up. He’d lost everything at that point, and Peter’s mission if nothing else seemed like a pretty good way of getting himself killed. He hasn’t spoken to anyone other than Peter in weeks, not that anyone really wants to speak to him or vice versa. He never got on with Melanie very well and Basira… he knows it’s petty but he can’t bring himself to speak to her due to the simple fact that she made it out in one piece while the others didn’t. So, when his phone had buzzed on his desk, he’d frozen. He figured it wasn’t Peter, as nowadays he opted for either texts or brief, in-person discussions. He had cautiously picked up the phone, and when he’d read the name listed on the caller ID his heart had dropped.

The fact that the hospital had called him could only mean one of two things: either Jon had woken up, or he had been officially declared dead, and Martin had long since given up hope of the former. That still hadn’t stopped the new, fresh waves of grief from hitting him hard, leaving him breathless. He can’t bring himself to listen to the message, because he is certain of what news it will bring. Once he hears it, it will be final.

He sits there at his desk in silence for a long time, trying to compose himself enough to just listen to the damn voicemail.  _ Just rip the plaster off, the sooner you get it over with the sooner you’ll get over him,  _ he tells himself, and finally presses play.

The tinny audio playing from his phone fills the empty archives and Martin exhales shakily as the voice of one of the nurses he’d spoken to during his visits identifies herself over the phone. He braces himself for the news he’s sure to come.

“I’m calling to let you know that patient Jonathan Sims is now conscious and in stable condition. He’ll be released in two days and will be available to visit tomorrow…”

What.

Of all the things he’d been prepared to hear, Jon being  _ awake  _ and  _ stable  _ was most certainly not one of them. He frantically scrambles with his phone, rewinding the audio because  _ surely  _ he had misheard. Jon couldn’t be awake. He  _ couldn’t _ .

He relistened to that voicemail another five times, then ten, then twenty. Finally, the words began to set in, and there was nothing he could have done to stop himself from breaking down into quiet tears. He shrinks into his chair, clutching himself as relief and grief and regret overcome him. He hasn’t allowed himself to cry over this for months, doing his best to numb himself to it all, but now it was all too much. Jon was awake.

But Martin can’t go to him.

As much as he aches to, as much as he longs to hear Jon’s voice again, to see his face once again animated and alive and not just a husk behind an oxygen mask, he can’t. He’s committed to this job, and if any part of what Peter has told him is true, he can’t just give up on it now. Now that he knows Jon is alive, he has a reason to want to continue beyond his own pathetic death wish. He has to do this. For Jon.


	2. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon returns to the institute.

When Jon had returned to the Archives, the first thing he’d noticed was how achingly lonely it had become. Even leading up to the Unknowing, there had always been some activity around the place, whether it be an argument or tense discussion of followup on whichever case they had been researching that week. Now, Tim and Daisy were gone, Melanie was angrily avoiding him, Basira would talk to him but the conversation was always strained, and Martin… 

He supposes the loneliness comes in part from Peter Lukas’s presence, but he knows it’s more than just that. What had happened had torn a rift in the group that he doesn’t think can be repaired. He’s been back for nearly a week and hasn’t seen Martin at all. He recalls what Basira had told him, about how his coma had hit Martin hard, and he harkens back to that taped conversation between Melanie and Basira that he had listened to all those months ago. He remembers relistening to that clip over and over until he had the exact intonation of every word memorized. ‘ _ Yeah, he’s got it  _ bad.’ It had made his chest ache in the most pleasant way possible. 

He isn’t quite sure when he had started feeling this way about Martin. He doesn’t think there was ever a quiet moment of realization or anything like in the old romance novels he was forced to study in university. He just knew, and it was a knowledge that scared him in some ways and comforted him in others.

Neither of them had said anything of it, though, before the Unknowing. He’d known how Martin felt but didn’t think it was the right time to divulge his own feelings, and he wasn’t even sure if he should. In his mind, the closer Martin was to him the more pain he’d bring him. In the end, it seems like pain had been wrought regardless.

It was in the disquieting loneliness of the empty archive that he began reviewing the tapes from before the Unknowing. The testaments and record of Martin’s plan. 

Hearing Martin’s voice again was like a breath of fresh air. Sat alone in his office, he listens, and he feels his heart weighing heavy in his chest.

And then comes the sentence that wrenches away what little happiness hearing Martin’s voice had brought him.

“ _ I need them to be safe… I need  _ him  _ to be okay. _ ”

The words make his gut twist and he has to pause the tape, pulling in a sharp breath. He had noticed how nervous Martin had been before their departure, despite the brave facade he put on. He remembers how their gazes had lingered on one another for longer than was probably justified. But this, hearing Martin say it so plainly and openly is something else entirely. That and, well, the fact that Jon  _ hadn’t  _ been okay. Knowing that Martin’s fears had come to fruition all while he was helpless to stop it… he can’t imagine the pain it must have brought him.

But there’s also a part of him that relishes in the phrase, because Martin had been thinking of  _ him _ , wanted  _ him  _ to be safe, and that selfish, infatuated part of his brain thrives in that knowledge. The thought that he’s  _ wanted _ , even if he knows that care is undeserved, is exhilarating. He hates himself for it.

He resumes his listening feeling weary. The rest of the statements bring him little relief from the aching regret in his chest, Tim’s in particular. Once that tape is finished, he thinks maybe he’s gotten through the worst of it.  _ Hopes _ he’s gotten through the worst of it.

Nothing could prepare him for the agonizing despair of listening to Elias confront Martin.

First comes the dread, waiting to hear what Elias had done to him, hearing the familiar, measured but icy tone of Elias’s voice as he digs into Martin’s responses. He’s overwhelmed with the desire to protect Martin but also feels a surge of pride as he listens to him stand his ground, giving Elias a piece of his mind for once. He can tell that even though he had only voiced his thoughts in order to distract Elias, the thoughts themselves are genuine, and hearing Martin stand up for himself is gratifying.

Then comes the feeling of ice-cold, hopeless despair as he listens to Elias positioning himself to attack, to land the devastating blow that had been an inevitability hanging over the entire exchange. 

“ _ Well, I hope you’ve got something better than that pathetic dig at my feelings for Jon _ .” 

Jon inhales sharply but doesn’t pause the tape, frozen in his seat. There it is; a confirmation of everything he’s suspected, of everything he had hoped that he wasn’t just reading too much into. And of course, it comes at the worst possible time.

“ _ It’s baffling, really. Such loyalty to someone who really treats you very badly _ .”

“ _ Oh, is that supposed to be, what, a revelation _ ?”

At that point, Jon slams his finger down on the pause button, white-hot tears blurring the edges of his vision as he grasps at his hair, pulling at his hair angrily. A choked sob escapes his lips as he leans on his knees heavily.

He takes long, shuddering breaths, feeling as though he may drown in all of the guilt and despair and regret crashing down on him. He feels a single tear fall and soak into his trousers, and he furiously wipes at his eyes, trying to regain his composure. He has no right to shed tears over this. He deserves to feel this pain, this remorse, considering what he’d put Martin through. How awful he was to this man who he now thinks he l… he stops that train of thought as soon as it appears. He can’t think about that right now.

He hits the red play button and listens to the awful things Elias put into Martin’s head. He doesn’t gain anything from this, it doesn’t feed him in any way. This isn’t fear, this is just pure, awful, oppressive sorrow. He listens helplessly as Martin begins to sob, aching to hold him, to comfort him, and wanting nothing more than to beat Elias over the head with the nearest heavy object.

“ _ Don’t burn any more statemen _ —” 

Jon picks up the tape recorder and throws it across the room with every ounce of strength still remaining in his body. He’s not a strong man, never has been, but as the device hits the wall, it breaks, buttons scattering and the tape popping out and skittering across the floor. He sits there for a moment, breathing heavily, and then buries his face in his hands.

He knows he can’t change the past. There’s nothing he can do to undo what pain he or Elias inflicted upon Martin. All he can do is hope,  _ trust  _ that Martin has a plan and do everything that he can to support him through it, even with the distance between them. He just really hopes that he hasn’t lost Martin already.


End file.
